Incarnation
by JustJetteJuliette
Summary: The Gaang had been incarnated many times over the centuries, but this is the first time history has repeated itself so faithfully. After several unshakable incidents, they must finally accept their destinies.


**Jette has not abandoned Fanfiction.**

**So, in short, this would be set in Modern Day America (which is where I'm from, so that's why) I'm expressing my love for culture here by having everyone from different parts of the world. This will not be a plot point, rather, a character thing. The main plot here is that the Avatar twerps are reincarnated and have to deal with who they actually are, as well as each other. This shall be epic, and it shall be funny. So basically, like the show. Before M. Night. Shyamalan killed it.**

**Peeps introduced in this chapter: ****Aaron=Aang. ****Sam=Sokka. ****Katie=Katara. ****Zac=Zuko. ****Very self-explanatory. I'm keeping the older generation's names the same as I think that they would just give their children more modern names.**

**So I will try to update regularily, and seeing how I haven't had any meltdowns or trips to the hospital for a while, I think I'm good!**

**Disclaimer: I own this epic slide show about the creator of Pokemon I'm doing for English class. Why I'm not doing the creators of Avatar: they allowed the movie to be made. I do not own Avatar.**

**VQVQVQV**

_Tuesday, September 20th, 2011_

_Aaron's Bedroom_

_Aaron's POV_

On the first day of school, I woke up to sunlight streaming through my curtains. Which any child in America knows means, in short, _'you're late.'_ I threw the covers aside and ran out of my bedroom and into the small kitchen in the house I share with my godfather, Gyatso.

"Why, good morning Aaron. I was wondering when you would be done getting ready." Gyatso turned to face me, the surprise that I was still in pajama pants and a panda Tshirt registering on his face.

"Why aren't you dressed?"

"I just woke up! I thought you were going to wake me up!"

Gyatso turned back to his pancakes. "I thought you were going to program that fancy cell phone of yours to wake you up. You better hurry if you don't want to miss your carpool. Wouldn't be good to miss your first day of school in America."

I waste no time. I'm up the stairs and in the shower before he has time to remind me why we're here. Where we came from.

I was born in Africa. The exact country is murky, as Gyatso did much travelling around. My parents were killed in a riot somewhere in Egypt when I was a baby. Gyatso was at the mosque where I was taken after my mother, or at least, the woman who had been pushing my stroller, was shot dead. Gyatso told them I was his grandson and took me along as he travelled.

Gyatso doesn't define himself with religion. He claims he is a 'Gandhi follower' which he describes as having no religion and following them all at the same time. Our house is full of religious figures and works of art from all over the world. As Gyatso is a religious man who doesn't define himself with religion, he instead spent his time travelling around the world and just helping people. Helped families through deaths, disasters, and financial crisis.

I stepped out of the shower and started toweling off what little hair I had grown since moving here. Since we now had access to a shower everyday, Gyatso allowed me to grow my hair out a little.

We've been all over the place. We've been in Africa most of my life, but we've gone around Europe and Asia and even to South America, on one memorable occasion. Wherever we went, Gyatso would buy books, music, paintings, sculptures-anything to represent the culture there. He had it all sent back here, to America, where his sister lived. Yangchen had always told Gyatso that I should go to America for high school education, to be with kids my own age.

So we came here. Yangchen helped us buy this little house by the ocean, with lots of land for our garden. It's a beautiful place, and it's hard to forget sometimes I'm in America.

I throw on a pair of jeans and a Tshirt with an elephant on it. I don't know why, but I love these animal Tshirts. My dog, Appa, jumps on my heels as I run back out to the kitchen. The cat, Momo, watches me lazily from underneath the kitchen table as Gyatso throws me a banana on my way out.

"Have fun today, Aaron! I love you!"

As I run out, I see rain blurring my vision, and I feel like I've been submurged in icy water.

I blink. It is a sunny day. The leaves haven't even started changing colors yet. It's hot, and I'm completely dry. And my carpool is here.

**VQVQVQV**

_Tuesday, September 20th, 2011_

_Sam's Truck_

_Sam's POV_

When the new kid climbed into the car, I had a weird sensation. My car was no longer a car, it was a giant animal. And we weren't parked in the kids' driveway; we were in the air. High above an icy tundra...

"So sorry I kept you waiting! I overslept. I guess I'm still on Africa time." The kid jabbered on. The car was once again a car. I shook my head. I was tired. Better get used to it, now that school was starting again.

My sister, Katie, was sitting in shotgun, putting on lip gloss. She smacked her lips and flipped the mirror back up.

"Believe me, we understand. I thought Sam had died when my father couldn't wake him up." She laughed and capped the tube of lip gloss.

"I'm Katie, or Kit Kat, as some people call me. This is my brother Sam." I grunted as a greeting. Katie hit me in the shoulder.

"Excuse his manners. Anyway, we grew up in Afghanistan, and we're still adjusting. Well, he is and our father are. It's a little shocking at first."

I laughed at that. Of course, I knew exactly what he was going through. I remembered when we first arrived here when I was nine. I was shocked by simple things, like women without burquas, or the McDonalds. Here, people are allowed to drink. Wear nail polish. Listen to any type of music they want.

If we were still in Afghanistan, Katie would not be talking to Aaron. That would not allowed. She probably would have been shot. She wouldn't be wearing makeup. She would be wearing a lot more than her little while blouse and boho blue skirt.

I am distracted momentarily by Aaron's description of a fat man on their plane. Katie laughs and goes on about some weird guy who stalks us at Starbucks.

Of course, Katie really doesn't remember all that. She doesn't remember a lot of things that happened back home. She mostly remembers being kept at home, our mother telling us stories of France, where she and my father met. Where Katie would have been allowed to go to school, to wear makeup and little skirts and to run and chase after butterflies, her hair flowing in the wind.

Instead, she was kept in the house, even when she went out she was forced to wear hijab, covering her hair. She didn't see half the things I saw...

I shook my head and brought myself back to present time. I was in America. My mother was buried in a cemetery in our new town. I am in America, where my father could afford to buy me this truck after I got my license. I live in America, where my sister can wear her hair loose and put on makeup and wear thongs.

Well, okay, she can't wear thongs. Not if I have anything to say about it.

**VQVQVQV**

_Tuesday, September 20th, 2011_

_Iroh's Apartment_

_Zac's POV_

"You really should call your father. He's very worried about you, especially after the incident with that Sam kid. Zac? Are you even listening to me?"

Of course I'm listening. I just don't want to hear it.

"Yeah, yeah. I'll think about it. Do you know where my socks are?"

"He really wants to help, Zac. He knows he hasn't been very understanding lately, but he's been under a lot of stress."

"Uh-huh. Can you please tell me where my socks are?"

"He also said something about how you should join a club this year. Says it could-"

"Uncle. I NEED MY SOCKS."

"Well, goodness, you could have just said so."

I rolled my eyes as my Uncle digs a pair of socks out of the basket and tosses them at me. I jam my feet in them and go back to take the rice off the stove. I pour in into two bowls, grab chopsticks, and my Uncle and I sit down for breakfast.

I live with my Uncle for several reasons. The one I tell most people is that he leaves me alone. Which can be true, depending how you look at it. He leaves me alone in the sense that he's not beating me up every night. That he doesn't yell at me for doing poorly on a math test. Or that he doesn't compare me to my perfect sister, Anastasia.

Once again, Spanish vocab flashes through my mind, the word _azul._ I imagine the kitchen comsumed by blue flames. But for only a second. Then everything is fine again.

That keeps happening. It doesn't make sense. I don't even take Spanish anymore. And even if I did, I wouldn't be thinking about colors. I decide to just ignore it, like I do any other time it happens.

No, Uncle treats me very well. But he does not leave me alone. He always needs to know where I am, what I'm doing, and who I'm with. He pesters me about my grades constantly. He cares about what I eat, if I'm smoking, if I'm cutting.

But we won't get into that.

I eat a bit of rice and drink some of Uncle's tea. We eat mostly in silence, just enjoying the sun coming through the window, shining light on Uncle's various house plants.

This is another reason I like living with Uncle. At my father's house, everything is stainless steel, carpeting, fresh paint. Plastic. Fake. Like we had never lived in Japan.

Uncle remembers Japan. His apartment floors are covered with tatami mats, the walls painted happy colors. I am still Japanese here.

Only when I am at my father's house do I feel American. I do not like this feeling.

This I cannot explain to anyone. Not even Uncle.

"You better leave now, or you'll be late." I nod and pick up both our bowls and cups and bring them over to the sink. I give my Uncle a slight bow before leaving.

As I get into my car, I think about Japan, think about my father's house, think about school, think about the weird Sam kid who I gave a black eye once for trying to help me with my math homework.

Another vision assaults me, this one much more intense than the others. So intense I am actually frozen in the seat of my car, unable to even turn the key I already have in the ignition.

I am on a ship. A steel ship, at sea. Men are working around me. Someone is speaking to me in a language I've never heard before, but somehow understand their words, but not their meaning. I see a bright light ahead of me, a beam of blue light that extends from the icy sea to the sky above.

It only lasted a second. But that second scared me enough to sit there in the seat for another ten minutes before I finally recovered enough to turn the key and start my drive to school.

**VQVQVQV**

**Forgive me if I ever make any mistake with culture or spelling or whatever, I am only an American, who has seen but a few states, and little else.**

**Brownie points to anyone who got the Islam and France reference. Also, another joke, during a ride to a show choir competition we watched an epically failing movie that no one understood, and not just because we had been on the bus for fourteen hours already. After it was done, a kid read the box and said, "Oh, no wonder it didn't make sense! This movie was directed by M. Night. Shyamalan!" Best. Moment. Of. Life.**

**Also, please, no one take offense in anything I say about culture or religion, I really enjoy learning about different places and I'm excited to write a fic that lets me explore it. If you truly are offended by anything I say, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to insult anyone. **

**Okay, review please! Tell me what you all think!**


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